Hear Me Roar in Winter
by CityGirl13
Summary: When she is demoted from Princess to Lady, Cassana Baratheon feared she would never achieve her dream of becoming one of the most powerful women in history, but she was wrong. As daughter to a King she began to want more. As wife to a King she will make and break kingdoms. And as the paramour to a King she will help forge the greatest dynasty Westeros has ever seen.
1. The King Needs a New Hand

Chapter 1: The King Needs a New Hand

It wasn't her handmaiden who woke Cassana up in the morning. Feeling herself wake up, yet not hearing the gentle call of her handmaiden, or smelling her breakfast left her feeling a little bit confused as to _why_ she had woken up. Then the bells tolled again, and she realised that they were the cause.

This realisation caused her to bolt upright in bed, her blonde hair swinging forward in a curtain. With no important weddings or births due in the capitol, the bells could only mean one thing, death. As for whose death, Cassana knew of only one person in the castle who had been ill enough to suspect.

Jon Arryn, the Hand of the King.

Resenting the early interruption to her sleep, but knowing that sooner or later someone would be in to rouse her anyway, Cassana pushed back her blankets with a sigh. And she'd been having such a nice dream too.

_She stood in front of the dais, bowed low before her King, who sat high above her on the majestic Iron Throne of Westeros. The entire Court and many other nobles stood assembled behind her, and the feel of everyone's eyes on her gave her a feeling of nervousness that she rarely experienced. Having grown up at Court, and being in her position, she was used to the attention of others. But this felt different, this felt special._

_A hush fell across the room as King Robert began to speak._

"_My eldest child and daughter, Cassana Baratheon," he intoned, "I hereby name you as my heir, and heir to the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros. When the Gods take me, you shall take the Iron Throne, and rule as I once did. It is yours by right of birth and blood."_

_Cassana felt a sudden intake of breath cut to her lungs as she gave a gasp of shock. A roar rose up from the audience behind her, every single voice raised in cheer. Well, all but one. To the right of her father stood her younger brother. Anger and resentment radiated from Joffrey, the glare he sent his sister was pure poison, but there was nothing he could do._

_Cassana barely even noticed him, beyond the slight feeling of smugness that she had taken his precious status as Crown Prince from him. She didn't notice because her mother had come to her and pulled her into a tight hug, whispering in her ear._

"_My daughter, my favourite, you deserve this more than anyone."_

_And in that moment, as the bells tolled joyously in the background, Cassana had been the happiest she'd ever felt in her entire life._

That is, until she woke up to discover that the bells really _were_ tolling, and rousing her from her longed for dream. A frown creased her brow as she pulled her robe on over her nightdress, that dream would never come into reality. Joffrey would get everything, despite being a terror. He would get the throne, the kingdoms, and all of their mother's affections. A wave of jealousy rose up within her, but she was forced to squash it back down when she heard the door to her apartments opening.

"Olina? I need you to-" she broke off, realising that it wasn't her maid, "Mother, what can I do for you?"

"You heard the bells, I presume," Cersei said; sitting herself down in one Cassana's chaise lounge.

"They woke me," Cassana complained; flopping down into the opposing lounge.

"They are abominably loud in this part of the Keep," Cersei agreed. "I would offer you breakfast, but my maid hasn't brought it yet," Cassana apologised.

"I intercepted her on her way here, and informed her that I would be dining with you, she had to go back and get more."

A jolt of surprise ran through Cassana. It wasn't often that her mother sought her out for alone time like this. When Cassana had been little, Cersei had constantly made time for her, and Cassana had loved it. Back then, both of her parents had doted on her. But, as the years went by, she and her father grew more and more distant, and she had to fight harder with Joffrey for their mother's affections.

She recovered herself though, "What happens now?"

"What always does when a hand dies," her mother replied with a shrug, "Your father will choose a new Hand, and life in the Capitol will continue."

"But it won't be the same, will it?"

Cassana couldn't explain why she said it, but as soon as she did, she knew it was true. The passing of Jon Arryn, one of her father's oldest friends and father figure, would mean a great many changes for the running of the Kingdoms.

"Yes, yes I do believe it will," Cersei agreed, "We can influence it in our favour however, by influencing who your father picks."

"Do you think we can do that?" Cassana asked; doubt creeping into her tone, she knew her father's stubbornness.

"Your father can be… set in his ways," Cersei said, reading Cass' mind, "However, I pray that we can convince him what the right course of action for this situation is."

"What-"

But Cassana was interrupted when her handmaiden returned, leading a trio of other servants bearing breakfast for the Queen and Princess.

"Where would you like your breakfast, highnesses?" Olina asked; curtsying before the royal women.

"We'll take it in front of the balcony," Cassana replied, her mother did not object.

She and Cersei held their conversation on pause as the servants opened her balcony doors, moved the table over to them, and set up the repast. Cassana's dormant hunger rose at the sight and smell of the food. Pastries, breads, fruit, cold meats, a pot of chilled tea imported from the Summer Isles, juices, and water.

"Will there be anything else, Princess?" Olina inquired as soon as the meal was laid out.

"No thank you, Olina, you may go," Cassana commanded, "But wait by the door, I'll call you in to help me dress later."

"Yes, Princess," Olina bobbed another curtsy before leaving the room, ushering the other servants ahead of her.

Mother and daughter rose as one when the help left, crossing over to the table, and taking the opposite positions which had been laid for them.

"Tea?" Cassana offered; proffering the pot to her mother.

Cersei held out a her cup, "Thank you, daughter."

"So, what is the right course of action?" Cassana asked as she poured first her mother's tea, then her own, "I'm assuming you have someone chosen?"

"Your grandfather," Cersei replied; helping herself to the selection of pre-cut fruits.

Cassana smiled. Of course, grandfather, the mighty Tywin Lannister. He really was the perfect choice. She loved her grandfather, and she always knew that he put family first, there was no loss in her eyes with him being made Hand of the King.

She nodded as she selected herself a pastry filled with berries, "Grandfather is an excellent choice. He is largely responsible for father being able to gain the throne, he has previous experience as Hand, not to mention his skill with politics. I can't imagine why father wouldn't choose him himself."

"Do remember that your father did not choose him after the war, he chose Jon Arryn instead," Cersei reminded.

"Yes, yes," Cassana said, taking a quite bite before continuing, "But that was years ago, and Jon Arryn had been father's father figure ever since father was fostered at the Eyrie, and he had been one of the first people to support his rebellion. He wasn't a _bad_ hand, and I understand why father chose him then, but now he has the chance to make a better choice, surely he will do so."

"I wouldn't put too much faith in your father's intelligence when it comes to decisions like this, he gets far too sentimental," Cersei took a sip of her tea, "As Jon Arryn grew older, he talked about taking on Ned Stark as his next Hand."

Cassana choked on the bite of pastry she had just been about to swallow, and had to sip some tea after the ensuing coughing fit which arose. This was her general reaction to having the Starks mentioned recently. The closer it got to her seventeenth name-day, the more nervous she grew whenever she heard that name.

"But… Lord Stark hasn't been South since the war. He hates politics, he doesn't know anything about King's Landing or running the Kingdoms. Even if father offered, I'm sure he'd turn it down, father must know that and see that it's pointless."

Cassana knew she was babbling, and from the level look her mother was giving her, she knew too.

"Cass…why is it that you get so nervous when the Starks are mentioned recently? The engagement has been in place since you were born, though I wish to the Gods that it wasn't."

"It's just… getting close," Cassana replied pathetically, "I still haven't even met him, we haven't written to each other since we were little. I don't know what I'll be walking into when the time comes."

Cersei reached across the table to grasp her daughter's hand, "I didn't know your father before I married him. But from what we know, Robb Stark doesn't drink in excess, he doesn't whore and father bastards everywhere he goes, and you've had no one go before you. That's a better start than I had."

"I know," Cassana squeezed her mother's hand comfortingly, then composed herself, "Well, how do we make sure that father makes the right choice for the Kingdoms?"

"I have already spoken to him about it," Cersei pulled back, "But he won't listen to me alone. I've already met with most of the Small Council, and they have assured me that they will try to sway him, I should like you to do the same."

An unladylike snort escaped Cassana before she could stop it, "Father wouldn't listen to me."

"Well, then it won't hurt to try," Cersei countered.

"Alright," Cassana sighed, rubbing at her temples, "How has Lysa taken her husband's death?"

A grimace tightened her mother's face, "She has left the capitol already, taking her son with her."

That news shocked Cassana yet again. Why would Lysa leave so soon after Jon's death? Cassana knew that there was no love between the couple, but surely it is a wife's duty to oversee her own husband's funeral rites. That Lysa Arryn had not even stayed long enough for that made Cassana feel very worried. What could cause her to seemingly flee her husband's death?

**/*0*/**

Later on that afternoon Cassana was hurrying down the corridors or the Red Keep, attempting to smooth the creases from her simple dress as she walked. Simple, tastefully sombre, but not a mourners black; that was suitable attire for a royal family member following the death of a Hand.

"What does father want?" Tommen pipped up from behind.

Cassana cast a glance over her shoulder at the two little siblings who were following in her wake.

"I don't know, he's called us all in to meet him, and he'll tell us then."

Both Tommen and Myrcella looked a little crestfallen at not knowing what they had been called away from play for, and on the inside Cassana shared that emotion, with added apprehension. They were still only children, and were not quite able to comprehend the impact that Jon Arryn's death would have on their lives, depending on what their father chose to do, which may be what he called them together for.

As the three royal siblings swept into her father's private chambers, Cassana saw that their mother and Joffrey were already in attendance. Inclining her head in a respectful not to her father, and dropped a small curtsy for good measure.

"My apologies if I am late."

"No, no," her father turned away from the window, as always, with a wine glass in hand.

"Well, Robert, what have you called us all in here for?" Cersei demanded; shooting a contemptuous glass at her rotund and undoubtedly drunk husband.

"I met with the Small Council earlier," he announced, "Blasted anyone those meetings. But the heart of it is, I've chosen my new Hand, I am going to ask Ned Stark."

"Robert, you can't!"

"Father, you can't!"

Three separate protests, one from Cersei, one from Joffrey, and the other from Cassana; Tommen and Myrcella said nothing, simply looked between their siblings and parents silently.

Robert arched one eyebrow at his family, "Oh, you don't agree do you? Well that's too damned bad, I've made up my mind, and I've already sent a raven telling him that the Royal Court will be travelling to Winterfell."

"Travelling?" Cersei repeated; aghast, "Surely you can't be serious."

"I'm bloody serious," he countered, "The reasons why will not be public knowledge, though I suspect many will guess. I will ask him in person."

"Because you know he would refuse a raven, because you know he will refuse the offer," Cersei stated bluntly.

"He won't refuse me," Robert refuted adamantly.

"Father, you know that he wouldn't want it anyway!" Cassana blurted out, "Why not just make grandfather the Hand? He is a far better-"

"Ha!" Robert interrupted, turning to Cersei, "You got to her first as well, woman?"

"He is the logical choice!" Cassana exclaimed before her mother could reply to her husband's barb, "Why not?"

"Because I am King," Robert stated bluntly, "And as King, I choose not to choose your political snake of a grandfather!"

"Robert! How dare you speak of my father like that," Cersei fumed.

"I'll speak of him as I damn well please," Robert said offhandedly.

"Does the whole Court have to travel?" Cassana questioned, "Surely just a small party would suffice?"

Robert fixed her with an even stare, and she felt her stomach drop.

"Even if that were the case, you would still be in that small party," he said, "I also wrote in the letter that your marriage to Robb Stark would be brought forward, and that the reason we travel to Winterfell is for the ceremony."

Cassana felt the wind driven out of her, "But, father, you agreed-"

"You promised that it would wait until she was seventeen!" Cersei interjected angrily, "You-"

"Seventeen, sixteen, it doesn't make a difference," he said, "Girls younger than her are married already, some even have birthed a baby or two, she is well old enough."

"But, Robert-"

"No," he cut her off sharply, "I let you have your way when you refused to let her be fostered at Winterfell, you will not have it now. Perhaps if I had not bent to you then, this would not be an issue now."

"Surely this should be a happy day for you, sister dear," Joffrey put in smugly, "Don't all women just _dream_ of their weddings?"

Cassana shot him a glare, but his smug expression didn't change. Whatever annoyance he felt about his father's choice was superseded by the joy he felt in knowing that Cassana wouldn't enjoy having her marriage brought forward. He was made happy by her own worry and apprehension concerning the union.

Oh how she hated him.

"I summoned you all to tell you the events," Robert said, "I have told you. Ned Stark will be my new Hand, Cassana and Robb will marry when we reach Winterfell, we leave in a week. This has been decided, there is no changing it. You are all dismissed."

Cassana took one more angry look at her father, and saw that he meant every word he had just said.

Her fury doubling, she turned and stormed out of the room ahead of her family.


	2. Cold as Hearts

**AN: Oh wow, so many reviews, alerts, and favourites already! Thank you all so much :3  
Also, if any of you were wondering what I picture Cassana looking like, there's a like on my profile if you click on her name. I used the actress Anita Briem, who played Jane Seymour in 'The Tudors'.  
Happy reading!**

Chapter 2: Cold as Hearts

"Jon, you fight like an old woman!" Robb taunted as he deflected another thrust from his brother.

"At least I fight like a human, not a lumbering ox," Jon shot back, side-stepping the blow Robb threw at his left side.

"Ha!"

Robb let out a bark of laughter as he and his brother clashed training blades in the courtyard of Winterfell. Their father's master-at-arms watched them carefully, but made no comments. Ser Roderick Cassel had been tutoring them in the sword since they had been boys, there was very little he had left to teach them, and so he was content to watch his pupils spar with the skills he had given them.

The Northern afternoons were growing increasingly chilled, but the boys had worked up a fair sweat with their exercise. It was just the distraction they both needed after this morning's events. The face of the Watchman deserter flashed across Robb's mind as he struck. One day, it would be him who would have to pass the sentence and swing the sword, was he ready? He didn't feel it.

The two brothers were incredibly evenly matched, and more frequently than not, these duels ended in an amicable draw. Which generally meant that they reached a point where they tossed aside their swords, and began trying to wrestle each other to the ground.

Robb felt that he and Jon were nearing this point, when he was distracted by an attendant.

"Lord Robb! Your father wishes to see you urgently!"

"What?"

Robb's attention was off the match, and Jon took full advantage, swinging hard at his brother, and knocking the sword from his unfocused fingers.

"My win," he proclaimed with a smile, holding his sword to his brother's throat.

Robb's eyes narrowed in mock menace, but he was laughing all the same as he clasped hands with his brother.

"Very well, brother, this time."

"Lord Robb," the attendant prompted.

He turned around, "Yes?"

"Your father wishes to see you, now."

Robb did frown this time, "What for?"

"He didn't say my Lord," the attended shrugged apologetically, "But he and your lady-mother are waiting for you in the council chamber."

Robb sighed, "Well, I'd better not keep them." He pointed his sword at his brother, "Next time, my victory!"

"Dream on," Jon taunted with a smile.

Robb walked over to the weapons rack, replacing his sword, before removing the hardened leather armour he'd worn for practice. He wasn't in his most presentable state, but he knew that his parents were used to summoning him from practice, so he wasn't overly bothered by the worn state of his shirt and vest.

A frown creased his brow as he paced the long halls of Winterfell, what could his parents be summoning him for? Was it a whole family matter, or had it just been him? His new direwolf pup trotted along at his heels, occasionally racing ahead, but always scampering back to Robb. Pausing momentarily to bend down and scratch the ears of Grey Wind, he allowed himself a moment to considering some possibilities, before he erased them. He didn't want to go in with pre-empted expectations.

He pushed open the heavy wooden doors to the council chamber, and saw that only his father and mother were awaiting him inside, seated at the long table which took up the centre of the room. Grey Wind followed him into the chamber, going off on his own sniffing explorations as Robb stood to attention before his parents.

"Father, you wanted to see me?"

"Indeed, son, sit down," Ned Stark commanded.

"Are the others coming?" Robb asked; taking the seat to his father's right, opposite his mother.

"No, this is something that we wished to speak to you alone about first, before we announce it to the family and castle," his mother replied.

Robb's eyes flicked down to the piece of paper that his father held loosely in one hand, noting the King's seal pressed at the bottom.

"What news from the capitol?" he gestured to the letter.

"Jon Arryn, the Hand of the King, is dead," his father stated solemnly.

"Father, I'm sorry," Robb said with sincerity, "I never met Lord Arryn, but I know that he was a father figure to you."

"Aye, and to Robert," Ned sighed heavily, "But there's more."

Robb glanced between his parents, noting their tight, worried, expressions, "I'm guessing that the 'more' is not good news?"

"That depends on which way we want to interpret it," Catelyn said, "Robb, as you know, you have long been promised to the King's eldest, Cassana."

Robb blinked in surprise. Yes, he did know that, but the information was not often brought up. He had never met his intended, and aside from some awkward letters exchanged as children, he had never spoken with her.

"The King also writes," Ned continued before Robb had the chance to speak, "That he, and most of the Royal Court, are soon to be on the road to Witnerfell. For your marriage to the Princess Cassana Baratheon, to take place five days after their arrival."

Robb blinked a few more times in surprise, and felt the frown return to his brow, "But I thought…"

"Yes, we all had been told that the marriage wouldn't take place until the Princess' seventeenth name-day, next year, but it seems that that is no longer the case. You will be married in just over a month," his mother informed him.

Robb's jaw worked, but he said nothing. This news was indeed surprising, and like his parents, he was unsure as to whether interpret good or bad from it. From what he knew of Cassana, she was beautiful, said to be much like her mother, accomplished, ladylike, but also said to have a truly royal temperament. Despite that, she was a stranger, a woman he'd never met, and in just over a month they would be man and wife.

Robb had wondered earlier if he was ready for the responsibilities that would one day come with being Lord of Winterfell, but now he knew for certain that he was not ready for marriage. But what could he do? It was going to happen one day, be it a month or a year, so why were his palms suddenly sweating?

"Robb?" his mother prompted.

He realised that he had missed a question, "Sorry, I was distracted."

She smiled sympathetically, "Nervous?"

"No!" he lied swiftly, "Just… surprised. I suppose this is a royal edict, and we can't change it?"

"No," his father said, "It is not so much the wedding which is the issue, we all knew that it would one day occur. It's the timing."

The pieces suddenly clicked together in Robb's head. The death of the former Hand, the sudden speeding up of his wedding plans so that King and Court would have to travel North. He realised that his wedding was being used as a cover-up excuse for the King's objective. He was going to request Robb's father for the new Hand of the King.

"What are you going to say?" he asked; his nerves about his now very imminent wedding overshadowed by this news.

If his father took the position as the Hand, it would change everything for the North. His father would have to go South, which would leave Robb in charge. It would leave the Stark family without it's Lord. His mother wouldn't go, not with Rickon being so small, and so his father would be in the South alone. Robb knew that the Southerners did not have the same ideals as those held in the North, and that King's Landing was a hotbed for political intrigue, plots, and betrayals.

His father sighed again, and cast a weary glance down at the paper in his hand, "I don't know, son. I don't know."

**/*0*/**

Cassana glowered at the reflection which stared back at her from the long mirror. The seamstresses who bustled around her had learnt that they should keep absolutely silent during these fittings, save for instructions for Cassana to turn this way or that. Their initial flattery had been met with cold glares and stony silence, they had desisted after two days.

And that had just been back in King's Landing, Cassana's attitude during these fittings had only grown worse the further they travelled. She knew that majority of the camp put it down to the pampered Princess being discomforted by the growing cold as they travelled North, but her family and friends knew the true reason. Well, them and anyone who had been walking by her father's tent last night when they two of them had gotten into rather a large argument.

Cassana had been grateful for her Uncle Jaime's presence in the tent, for he had put a stop to things before they could grow out of hand. Normally Cassana had her mother with her during such meetings to keep at least a minor amount of peace between her and her father, but Cersei had been far too busy doting on Joffrey that night to come with Cassana.

"Well, I would say that you looked like the most beautiful bride-to-be, but that frown does rather spoil the image."

Cassana turned her gaze from the mirror, and felt her expression soften, "Uncle Jaimie! Please, just give me one moment."

"I think that's enough fitting for one evening," she told the seamstresses, "Help me get out of the dress so that I may receive my uncle."

"Yes, Your Highness," they murmured.

Cassana was shifted to behind her dressing screen, and extracted from the complicated garment. She nearly let it fall to the floor in a heap of silk and jewels, but her seamstresses carefully gathered up the fabric and hung it with care. Following this, they dressed her in a far more comfortable gown, and wrapped a cloak around her. She cursed the chilled North, her entire wardrobe from King's Landing would either have to be altered, completely done away with, or she could have to resign herself to a life walking around wrapped in cloaks to keep the cold off her bare skin. She sighed, dreading the impact her change of residence would have on her finery.

When she emerged, she saw that her uncle had sent for some more mulled wine, and was holding two cups of it in his hands. He held one out to Cassana, who took it gratefully, wrapping her hands around the warm metal.

"I thought you'd gotten rid of the frown," he teased, tapping her forehead.

Cassana took a calming inhale of the warm spiced wine, "I was mourning the loss of beauty. None of the things that are in fashion back home will I be able to wear here, unless I want to freeze."

"And it's not even winter," Jaimie noted mildly.

Cassana shot him a glare over the rim of her cup as she took a sip, and his expression softened.

"I wanted to see how you were after last night," he said, "I know that this must be hard for you, and your father doesn't seem to understand that."

"Huh," Cassana tossed her hair and took a seat in one of her camp chairs, "To him this isn't even about me, it's just a convenient excuse to travel North. It's never been about me. This union was put in place before I could even _think_ for myself, let alone have a say!"

"Cass," Jaimie gave her a sympathetic look, "You're a princess, it's unlikely that you would have had a say, no matter what age it was brought about at. Your mother didn't have a say, and neither did most of the married women at Court. Not even all of the men had a say, if that helps."

"Not really," Cassana took another long sip of wine, "But thank you for trying, Uncle Jaimie."

She sighed, leaning forwards, clasping the cup between her two hands, "It's just… I knew that one day I would have to go North to marry Robb, I've always known that, but now that it's actually happening, I don't' feel prepared."

"That's normal," he assured her, taking the seat opposite.

"I'm scared, Uncle Jaimie," she admitted; looking him in the eye, "I'm scared. I don't want to leave my home, my family, everything that I know behind. I don't know how to live in the North, I don't know how to fit in with the Starks, I don't know how to be married to one. I'm going to miss mother so much, and Tommen, Myrcella, you, all of my friends. I have nothing in the North. Nothing."

"Hey," Jaimie put down his cup and went over to his niece, kneeling before her so that their green eyes were level, "You are your mother's daughter, you are strong, you can do this. I know that, and so does your mother, so does everyone who knows you. You will not have _nothing_. You are Cassana Baratheon, Princess of Westeros, you will always have that."

Cassana smiled sadly, "Not after I'm married. Back at home, I am a Princess. I am daughter to a King, I and daughter to the strongest woman I know, granddaughter to the greatest politician and general. After I'm married, I'll no longer have that. I won't be a Baratheon, I will be a Stark. I won't be a Princess, I'll only be a Lady. I don't know when I will next see my family again, or indeed if I even will."

"Jaimie, will you leave us?"

Cassana jerked her head around, she had not heard her mother enter her tent, but there she stood. Queen Cersei, holding herself high, the picture of grace and power. Jaimie stood with Cassana, and gave his niece a tight hug. He put a hand on his sister's shoulder comfortingly as he stepped out of the tent, and then it was just Cassana and her mother.

Cassana wondered how much her mother had heard. She'd tried so hard to be strong in front of her mother, to live up to her, and impress her with how capably she was handling her new situation. She hated that her mother now knew that she was afraid, that she wasn't as strong as her. In her mind she tried to get a hold of herself again, and stop the tears that had been just about to come out following her spiel to her uncle.

"Mother, I…" she trailed off, looking down as she clasped and unclasped her hands in front of her.

"Oh, my daughter," Cersei crossed the tent in quick strides, gathering Cassana up into her arms, "My poor daughter. It's okay, it will all be alright."

Cassana held on tight to her mother, knowing that she understood, and managed not to cry.


	3. Rustic Charm

Chapter 3: Rustic Charm

"Well I hear the Prince is a right royal prick," Robb commented; being very careful with how much he moved his jaw while Tommy shaved him.

"But think of all those Southern girls he gets to stab with his right royal prick," Theon noted; leering and thrusting his pelvis a couple of times.

Robb ignored his comment, wiping the remains of shaving foam from his face as he stood up. He inspected himself briefly in the mirror, and was satisfied with his new appearance. His hair had been cut just a little so that his curls didn't resembled a tangled bush on his head, and his clean-shaven face made him appear younger than his eighteen years. He sighed. Theon and Jon were only being tidied up for the King's arrival, so that the household of Winterfell made a good show. Robb on the other hand, was also being tidied up for his wedding.

Five days. Even when the letter had arrived it had still felt as if he had all the time in the world, but now it was only a matter of days, less than a week in fact. Only the smallest of details remained to be arranged, and Robb was thankful that his mother was more than capable of handling it so that he didn't have to be involved. Thus far the only thing he had done was approve the feat menu and stand still for his fittings.

"What about the Southern girl Robb's going to get to-"

"Shave him good, Tommy," Robb talked over Theon, shoving his brother towards the chair, "He's never met a girl he liked better than his own hair."

Jon shot him an annoyed look, but sat grudgingly still as Tommy began to trim at his long hair back down to a more manageable length. Robb's avoidance didn't go unnoticed by Theon, who pounced on it the way he did any way he could tease his friend.

"Defensive of your lady already, Robb?"

"She's not a 'Southern girl', she's the Princess," Robb corrected; leaning casually against one of the wooden poles, "Show some respect."

"What do we think, Jon? Do we think he's in love already?" Theon snickered.

"I hear she's quite pretty," Jon commented, "Apparently takes after her mother."

"Ooooh, the Queen," Theon whistled appreciatively, "Now there's a woman most men in the Seven Kingdoms would kill for."

"Are you just trying to get your leecherousness out of your system before the Court arrives?" Robb inquired, "Because if so, then I'm sorry friend, but I don't think it will ever work."

"Alright then, I'll be serious," Theon said; a comment which earned him a snort of laughter from both brothers.

"Watch carefully, Tommy, you're about to witness a miracle," Robb chuckled.

"What do you think about her?" Theon asked, "Your bride-to-be?"

"Think?" Robb scratched absently at the back of his neck, "Should I think anything about her?"

"You two have been engaged since you were children," Theon pointed out, "But you barely mention her, or anything to do with her."

Robb shrugged, "Not much to mention, I don't know her, never met her."

"He wrote to her," Jon said.

Robb shot his brother a glare. Thankfully those were the last words Jon would speak for a while, unless he wanted Tommy's razor to slip, but they had been damned annoying ones. Robb had managed to keep that secret from Theon, and had wanted to continue keeping it, knowing that his childhood friend would tease him.

"Oh really?" Theon arched his eyebrows at Robb, his trademark smirk in place.

"When we were children," Robb said defensively, "It was a long time ago, and not many letters, they might as well have not happened."

"If you say so," Theon seemingly accepted this, but Robb knew his friend better. He hadn't heard the last of those blasted letters…

"How does it feel about to marry a total stranger?" he asked.

Robb shrugged yet again, "Not that strange. My parents were strangers once, I'm sure so were yours, Theon. It's normal, for us."

"She arrives today, how curious are you?"

Robb thought for a moment before answering, "Very. All I know about her are the rumours from the capitol. I know she's pretty, but I want to know _more_. I want to know what she's like."

"You know she's pretty, surely that's enough," Theon said; grinning, "I'd take that and think myself a lucky man."

"Doesn't she have a temper? That's all I ever hear about," Jon commented; finally free from his shearing and shaving.

"Doesn't every woman?" Robb shot back.

"What's your plan?" Theon asked.

"My plan?" Robb laughed.

"Your plan," his friend affirmed, "What are you going to do about her?"

Robb considered carefully. He considered his new suit of finery which was hanging in his wardrobe, next to his direwolf emblazoned cloak, waiting for the wedding. He considered the bracelet he had commissioned from the castle jeweller. He considered the extra wardrobe and dressing screen which had already been moved to his rooms. And then he smiled, oh yes, he had a plan.

"Oh dear, that poor girl," Jon said, "That's Robb's plotting smile."

The smile widened to a grin as he tugged his shirt back over his head, "I'm going to charm her."

"Charm her? Charm her? That's your plan?" Theon looked him over, "Well damn you Stark, it might even work!" then he smiled slyly, "If you had any charms to charm with."

Robb launched himself in a tackle towards his friend, bearing Theon to the cold ground and wrestling him to stay down. It wasn't long before Jon joined in, and the three boys were rolling around as if nothing had happened to make them grow up over the years.

Perhaps nothing had, but with the King's arrival, Robb's wedding, and the coming of Winter; something was definitely going to.

**/*0*/**

"No, you can't wear it! And stop asking," Cassana snapped.

Myrcella drew her hand back with a pout, and even looked on the verge of tears. She so rarely had Cassana get angry at her, that when it did happen, she was never sure how to react to it. Cassana normally felt guilty right after displaying anger towards one of her younger siblings, but today she was really in no mood for it, and ignored the pointed look that her mother gave her.

"Here, Myrcella, would you like another apple sweet?"

Corrina Brax, Cassana's closest friend and lady-in-waiting, proffered a tin out towards the little Princess. Myrcella smiled sweetly, and leaned forwards eagerly, as did Tommen.

"The amount of those sweets you two have eaten, you won't fit into your feast clothes tonight," Cassana jibed unnecessarily.

Both her siblings drew back their hands guiltily, sharing a look of both surprise and upset at their sister's accusations. Even Corrina gave Cassana a slightly shocked glance at her prickliness, and as if in defiance, took a sweet herself.

Not that Cassana cared. She looked away from the shuffling citizens of the huge wheelhouse, and peeked through the curtains to look at the Northern countryside. They had been deep in the North for a couple of days now, and it had only continued to grow colder since they had crossed the Neck. The countryside was bleak to Cassana's eye. She was used to the rolling greens, flowered trees, and fragrant flowers of the South. Here in the North there only seemed to be straggly bushes, skeletal trees, and grey clouds.

This was to be her home? She could almost feel the life draining out of her just by looking at it. How was she, a Princess of Westeros, expected to live in this cold seclusion? She fiddled absently with the pendant now hanging around her neck, her thoughts growing bitterer as the ride continued.

She had already been put in a foul mood by the morning's early start, her father had wanted to reach Winterfell in good time, and he'd be damned if it meant the discomfort of others to do so. They had been on the road since dawn, and while Cassana had attempted to get some sleep, the constant rocking and chatter within the wheelhouse made that impossible.

"If you could all please give my daughter and I some space."

Cassana heard the rustle of silk as ladies shifted to further corners of the wheelhouse at her mother's request phrased command. The level of whispering went up, but she knew that it was all just a ruse, and that every single woman would be attempting to listen to what transpired between mother and daughter.

"What has gotten into you?" Cersei demanded.

She felt her mother take the seat opposite her, but still did not turn her glace away from the outside world. What was there to do in Winterfell? Were there beautiful gardens? Entertainers? Markets? Anything? Or was it all going to be as bland as the land it sat in?

"Cassana, look at me."

Not able to ignore a direct command from her mother, Cassana turned her face, and was surprised to see that her mother appeared to be genuinely put out with her.

"What has gotten into you?" she repeated.

Cassana shrugged, "I'm tired, I haven't been sleeping well, and today was an early start."

"We're all tired, Cassana, but that is not an excuse for getting angry at your sister for no reason," Cersei reprimanded.

"Myrcella always wants to touch or wear my things," she said sulkily, "It was the hundredth time she'd asked."

Her mother arched an eyebrow, "And is that why you got angry so quickly?"

"She was being annoying!" Cassana defended; keeping her voice low so as to avoid the eavesdroppers.

"No, you're just on edge," her mother corrected, "You are a Royal Princess, Cassana, that was not a dignified way to act in front of the ladies of the Court."

"Oh, because you've never gotten publically angry before? Or Joffrey, the precious golden son, he's never done worse had he?" Cassana shot back. It was a cheap shot, and her mother's green eyes grew steely.

"I know that you are angry with the situation, but it is what it is," her mother said firmly, "I've tried changing it since you were born, but nothing has worked."

"But-"

"I know that you don't want to be North, and I don't blame you," Cersei interrupted, "This land is as inhospitable as the people who inhabit it. But you are my daughter, and you are strong. Yes, this marriage is not what you want, my marriage turned out to not be what I wanted either. But you _will_ not sulk about it like a little girl. You are a beautiful and intelligent woman, and that means you will find a way to make your marriage work in a way that makes you comfortable, if not happy."

Cassana felt like she'd been slapped, her mother had never reprimanded her like that. Well, she supposed it was half reprimand, half compliment in a way, but parts of it still stung. She was sixteen, how could her mother call her a child? That was unfair!

"Winterfell ahead!"

The cry was echoed down by the soldiers in the column, and a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold went down Cassana's spine. Her anger was washed out of her, replaced by apprehension. They were here, they were now minutes away, there would be no going back now. She was trapped.

She had been trapped for a long time. It finally dawned on her that this really would have happened, no matter what, she would have to have gone through this. There would have been no changing the situation, it was just the time that had changed. This had always been her path, and she suddenly felt frantic, as if her life was no longer in her control, as if it had never been in her control.

But then her mother's words played over in her mind again, and again. She looked at her mother, and saw a woman who was not in a happy or loving marriage, but she had made what she could from it. She had survived, persevered, and she had become the woman Cassana so admired.

She realised that this whole time, she had been worried about all the things she would be leaving behind, and how much her life would change, how she would no longer be happy. But happiness was not going to be the key issue in a marriage, it never was for people like her. The issue was what you gained from it, and until now, Cassana hadn't seen that she would gain anything. She still didn't know that she would, but she could find out.

It would give her something to do at least.

"Do you understand?"

Her mother was looking at her intently, for a moment Cassana didn't feel as if she could meet her gaze. But then she raised her green eyes up to meet hers, and reached out her hand to grasp her mother's tightly.

"I understand."


	4. The Princess' Arrival

Chapter 4: The Princess' Arrival

Cassana had pulled back from the window as soon as they had entered Winter Town, the small city surrounding Winterfell was filled with people lining the streets. They probably couldn't remember that last time a Royal Tour had made it to the North. She allowed herself a small smirk when she peeked through the curtains and saw their gasping astonishment at the huge royal party, and their pointing hands indicating the gilded wheelhouse she travelled in.

"Cassana?"

"Yes?" she turned to look down at her little sister.

"I'm sorry." Myrcella looked very nervous as she stood before Cassana, twisting her hands awkwardly in front of her.

Her earlier annoyance had dwindled following her conversation with her mother, and looking at Myrcella's downcast, nervous, face made her instantly regret her earlier actions.

"Oh, Myrcella," Cassana drew her into a hug, "I'm the one who is sorry."

Her little sister was beaming by the time she took a step back, "It's it exciting? We're finally here!"

Cassana half winced, half smiled, very nearly relapsing into annoyance at her little sister. Myrcella and Tommen were the sweetest children Cassana had ever met, and she loved her siblings dearly. However, their innocence had left them somewhat oblivious to the reason for her recent mood swings. Oh, they definitely noticed that she was more easily irritated in recent weeks, but they had no inclination as to what the cause may be.

"Yes, exciting…" she muttered under her breath.

"And you're getting married in a few days! Oh! I can't wait!" Myrcella was all but bouncing in a most un-princess like manner, "Are you excited about that too?"

"A little," Cassana replied.

"Only a little? But it's your wedding! Your dress is so pretty, and you're going to look beautiful, and your husband will look handsome, and the ceremony will be beautiful, and then there's the feast-"

"Myrcella? Come here darling, let me fix your hair before we arrive at the castle."

Cassana shot her mother a grateful look as her little sister scampered over to have her hair fixed. It was fine really, but Cersei must have seen the growing agitation on Cassana's face, and elected to save the wheelhouse from another royal outburst. Cassana was thankful that her mother had done so, she would need these last few minutes to calm herself down, and present a proper face to the Starks and their household.

Not that she was worried about making a bad first impression on them. She was Princess Cassana, she was royalty. She felt like it was virtually impossible for them to not take her in with favour as soon as they met her.

Still, it wouldn't do to emerge from the carriage scowling. She schooled her expression carefully, drawing down a mask of calm, something which she had unknowingly copied from her mother. Glancing across the wheelhouse, she saw that her mother was endeavouring to do the same.

She knew that there was little love lost between her mother's family and the Starks, in spite of her father's close bond to Lord Stark. The Stark-Lannister rivalry had been going on for generations, as far as Cassana was aware. It wasn't a rivalry to the extent of war between them, more… a longstanding dislike and sense of mistrust.

The Starks were just so unshakable in their morals, and their honour, their sense of justice. They set high standards for themselves, and expected everyone to agree with them, acting put out when the rest of the world didn't comply. It was a lovely ideal, Cassana had to admit, but it was shockingly naïve for such an old House. It was for that reason that Eddard Stark would make such an unsuitable hand. Yet, despite many objections from his family, her father still intended to name him.

Cassana jerked a little in surprise as the wheelhouse came to a stop. They must have arrived in the courtyard of Winterfell. Myrcella had scrambled back over to her big sister's side, as the ladies in the wheelhouse began to make ready to desend. She reached out to peek through the curtains, but Cassana pushed her hand away.

"But I'm curious!" the little girl protested.

"No, Myrcella," Cassana chastised, "We wait until we exit the wheelhouse, then you can look around. But please, remember that you are a princess, and don't gawk, it's most undignified of a royal family member."

Myrcella pouted, but nodded in acquiescence. Both girls stood and let cloaks be draped around their shoulders. The air outside would be more chilled than the warmed wheelhouse. Cassana stroked the fur collar of her cloak's hood gently. It was one of her many new ones, made for her in the Capitol and on the road so that she would have a Northern wardrobe ready for her years here.

Corrina, her head lady-in-waiting, came forward to fasten the cloak securely around Cassana, smiling encouragingly at her.

"It will be okay, I'm sure we'll get used to it."

Cassana smiled tightly in response, but gave no verbal reply. Corrina had been her friend since childhood, and had been her first lady-in-waiting. They had grown up together, and Cassana trusted her more than she did anyone outside of her family. But all the same, she didn't trust her words in that moment.

The wheelhouse door was opened, and her mother was the first one to descend the steps to the hard ground of the Winterfell courtyard. Cassana followed, keeping her head high, her eyes forward, looking everything inch the princess as she took her place next to her mother.

She had told Myrcella not to gawk, and she followed her own advice, but had to confess to a small temptation to look around more than a simple cursory glance. The entire Stark family and their household was knelt before her father. Cassana counted the children off in age order, but found that she'd forgotten the name of the smallest child, the one standing next to Lady Stark. Was it… Rick…Rickard? No, that had been their grandfather. Gods, she'd simply have to avoid addressing them by name now, so that they didn't notice.

Cassana watched her father dismount, cringing slightly with embarrassment as he did so. Why did he have to be so fat? He was the King! Would it kill him to look the part a little more? He already didn't act dignified, stately, or in any way befitting someone of his status, but he could at least have looked the part. Dimly, she remembered what he had looked like in her childhood. He had been putting on weight even then, but he hadn't had nearly as much as he did now. He had still faintly resembled the handsome man people spoke of as the hero for rebelling against the Targaryens.

Still, looks aside, he was the King of Westeros. He stopped in front of his old friend, and every so slightly gestured for him to rise. The rest of the family and household followed their Lord as he responded to his King's unspoken command, and Cassana got her first look at Robb Stark, her future husband.

He was handsome, very handsome, she realised with a start. His light brown hair was cut into a close crop of curls, and he had been freshly clean-shaven for the occasion. In the back of her mind, Cassana thought that a beard might better suit his face, make him look more manly and serious. Even at the distance she could see that his eyes were a bright shade of blue. It was when she noticed this that she noticed he was looking directly at her.

Well, that was fair she supposed, she had been staring at him, and it was the first time they had seen each other. Still, did he have to make such a show of obviously looking at her? At least she had had the decency to subtly assess him while not blatantly staring. She began to find it unnerving, but refused to be the first one to drop her gaze. She tilted her chin a little and told herself that the flush in her cheeks was only from the chill air, and had no effect whatsoever on her royal dignity.

"You got fat," her father accused his old friend after giving him a once over.

Cassana thoughts that was a fairly hypocritical remark for her father to make, and flicked her gaze to his own distended belly. Lord Stark too, gave the King's royal stomach a pointed glance, which caused the two men to stare each other off for a few moments. Cassana hoped that her father's temper would arise, they would argue, and they could leave the North without either naming Lord Stark the new Hand, or her marrying Robb.

But no, the two men began to chuckle, and embraced each other warmly, like the old friends that they were.

"Nine years, why haven't I seen you?" her father demanded; holding Lord Stark at arm's length and appraising him.

"I've been guarding the North for you, your grace," Lord Stark replied with a smile.

Her father scoffed slightly, but stepped back to release his friend, and embrace Lady Stark with a familiar call of "Cat!" and giving her a hug as well. He ruffled up the hair of the youngest Stark child, whose name still eluded Cassana's mind, before moving down the line.

"You must be Robb," her father clapped the eldest Stark boy on the shoulder, and held out his other arm to gesture at Cassana, "The lucky man engaged to my daughter."

Robb smiled and nodded, "Yes, your grace."

"Cassana!" her father shouted jovially, "Come over here girl, come meet your future husband."

Cassana shot her mother a look for confirmation. Protocol demanded that the King be introduced first, then the Queen, then the Crown Prince, and then the rest of the siblings; clearly her father had no trouble in doing away with those little traditions however. Her mother gave a slight inclination of her head, and gestured slightly for Cassana to step forwards.

She shook her hair back from her face, and followed her father's request on the approval of her mother. Stepping out of line with her siblings, she crossed the short distance to the Stark family. But, if her father wouldn't follow protocol, she would. She first stopped in front of Lord and Lady Stark. Lord Stark took her hand and raised it to his lips in greeting, while his wife curtsied beside him.

"Princess," they both greeted.

They smiled politely as they did so, but did Cassana see further calculation behind Lady Stark's eyes? Or had she just imagined it? Was Catelyn Stark sizing up her husband's future wife? No, she must have imagined it. Cassana was a princess, she was royal blood, any House was lucky to receive her as a daughter-in-law. Well, they should be at any rate.

Cassana steeled herself, and moved towards Robb Stark. Her father put an arm around her shoulders, an intimate gesture that she was no longer accustomed to receiving from him, and it made her a little uncomfortable. She stiffened under his hand, but if he noticed, he made no sign of it.

"Here she is, my beautiful daughter," Robert announced loudly.

Cassana winced inside, but kept her expression calm. She wasn't used to this kind of behaviour from her father, he barely noticed her at all, and his sudden overly affectionate displays were unsettling to her. She preferred the cordial relationship that they had shared for many years. She was used to that, it was her comfort zone.

"She is indeed beautiful," Robb agreed.

"Lord Robb," she greeted formally, "So good to meet you at last."

"Princess Cassana," he took her hand and raised it to his lips.

Cassana was used to this greeting from men, it was either this or a bow. Unlike most men however, Robb did not lower his gaze, but rather kept his eyes locked on Cassana's. The smile he wore throughout the whole act mingled charm with a hint of rakishness, and he held on to her hand for just a little longer than would have been appropriate, had he not been her intended.

Thankfully, her mother stepped forwards to present herself to the Starks, giving Cassana the chance to pull herself a few steps back from Robb, and re-join her siblings standing in line.

"He's so handsome," Myrcella whispered softly to her big sister.

"Shh, Myrcella," Cassana whisper-hissed back, worried that if they could hear the younger Stark girl whispering to her sister about Uncle Tyrion, that Robb would hear her little sister gossip-praising him. She stole one glance back in Robb's direction, to see if he had heard. If he had, he gave no sign, he only continued to gaze at her. That was getting unsettling now. Cassana fixed her eyes forwards, and kept her royal dignity silent.

"Ned, take me to your crypts," her father suddenly commanded gruffly, "I want to pay my respects."

"We've been riding for a month, my love. Surely the dead can wait," Cersei's voice was icier than the Northern air.

But Robert only turned and began to walk away, "Now."

Ahh, of course. Lyanna Stark. The long dead woman had been the first and largest thorn in her parents' marriage. No matter how many years went by, her father refused to forget his first fiancée, the woman he had started a war for. She had often heard him talk of her, often whilst drinking. Sometimes he would sadly lament her loss, or he would grow angry, and curse that she had been 'taken' from him, curse that he was married to Cersei and not her.

Cassana hated him for having these raves, especially when her mother was in the room. Couldn't he see that he had a beautiful wife who was a good Queen? But no, to him, Cersei had never been good enough to live up to the pristine image of Lyanna Stark. Cassana hated the woman, even though she had died before Cassana's own birth, she hated her for what she had done to her family. Because of Lyanna, her father had never loved his wife, he had never connected with his children, he had never been able to move on from the past.

Still, Cassana supposed she had one thing to thank Lyanna for. Without her, Robert would never have fought his rebellion against the Targaryens. He would never have dethroned the dragons, and taken the Iron Throne for himself. And if he hadn't done that, then Cassana wouldn't have been a princess.

"Where's the Imp?" the insistent whisper sounded loudly through the courtyard.

"Would you please, shut up," Sansa Stark at least looked embarrassed by her sister's inappropriate, and not all that quite, whisper. She held herself high, Cassana noted, and kept a calm expression on her face, except when telling her sister off. Perhaps class in the North wasn't entirely non-existent after all.

From the corner of her eye, she saw her mother whispering softly to her Uncle Jaimie about something. When he remounted his horse and rode back the way they had come, Cassana guessed that he had been sent to search for her letch of an Uncle Tyrion. She wrinkled her nose unconsciously, he was no doubt getting drunk in a brothel somewhere, sullying the family name.

"You must be tired after your long journey," Lady Stark spoke into the awkward silence that had followed the abrupt departure of the King and Lord Stark, "Come, rooms have been prepared, and I am sure that you will all want to rest yourselves before the feast at sundown."

At her words, the formality in the courtyard seemed to dissipate a little. People began to move around from both sides, helping to carry baggage, making their way towards the castle, greetings between the less nobles. Cassana felt herself relax now that the initial greetings were over. She could just relax alone in her room until more forced socialising at the feast.

"Princess?" Robb stepped up to her, and gave her a bow that caused Myrcella to break into giggles.

"Yes?" she inquired, retreating behind her royalty so as not to seem as nervous as she was.

"I was thinking, since it has been so long since we wrote to one another, perhaps we should begin to get reacquainted. Would you let me show you the castle? Chaperoned, of course," he added hastily.

"Thank you for your kind offer, Lord Robb, but all of the ladies in my retinue are tired from the long journey, as am I. Perhaps tomorrow, you can show me your home," Cassana replied with diplomatic smoothness.

"I'm not tired!" Myrcella piped up.

This earned her a charming grin from the heir to Winterfell, which made the little girl all but bounce and blush on the spot. Cassana found herself less charmed by her little sister's comment. Why couldn't Myrcella pick up on the fact that Cassana really wasn't ready to get close to Robb yet? Of course she would, it was inevitable considering their impending marriage, but couldn't Myrcella give Cassana one more day of freedom before she had to pretend to enjoy his company every day for the rest of her life?

"Sadly, I am. And you know that you will need to rest this afternoon if you want to be able to stay a little later at the feast tonight." She had been addressing the both of them, but gave her little sibling a pointed look with her last sentence. Myrcella pouted, but conceded to Cassana's wishes with a small nod.

"Tomorrow it will be then." Robb gave no indication that her desire to delay was of any upset to him, as he bowed to her and her family, before turning and striding back over to his friends.

Cassana watched him go with an assessing eye. His stride was confident, the way he carried himself manly and sure, yet he managed to still retain that air of boyish charm when he spoke to her. He had been perfectly polite towards her, had made no inappropriate comments or suggestions. All in all, he was surprisingly living up to his reputation as a charmer, but a respectful one, not a letch like her father.

His friends laughed as Robb arrived in their midst once more. Several of them swarmed him, giving him claps on the back, and bringing hi close to whisper advice or questions in his ear. Some tried to shoot unseen looks in Cassana's direction, their attempts at subtlety failing miserably. One pointed her out to Robb again, making him turn to face in her direction with a smile.

Cassana hated being forced to drop her gaze by people below her, but she was made very uncomfortable by the attention of Robb and his group. Thankfully, she was saved by the excuse of turning to the servant who approached her mother in order to show the royal family to their rooms. And, since the way into the keep lead away from Robb, she did not turn back to look at him again.


	5. Gossip and Trinkets

**AN: Thank you all for your lovely support! Your reviews, favourites, and alerts are all wonderful! **

Chapter 5: Gossip and Trinkets

"All I am saying is that he really _is_ handsome, and does seem to be genuinely kind! Maybe it won't be as bad as you'd thought."

"I'm not going to be too quick to admit that. After all, I've only spoken to him once, and for all of two minutes. I'm hardly going to suddenly turn around my opinion just based on that."

"Ahh yes, this opinion that you formed _before_ you met him, the one based on rumours?"

Cassana propped herself up on her elbows to glare at her friend, "Yes, that one."

"Mmmhmm," Corrina smiled softly to herself as she went about ordering Cassana's vanity table.

"I don't know why you insisted on doing that," Cassana fell back onto her mound of pillows, "My maids could have taken care of it."

Her friend waved her comment away, "Please, they have already stored away all of your gowns and other things, but do you remember the last time a lady's maid took care of your vanity? You were so sure that she had stolen your favourite scent that you ordered her flogged. If Myrcella hadn't found it under the table, where _you_ had dropped it, the girl would have-"

"Yes, yes, alright," Cassana grumbled, rubbing her arms in a vain attempt to warm them some more, "Send for someone to build up my fire some more, will you?"

Corrina, as always, heard the command behind the request. Dropping a little curtsy to her royal friend, she ducked out of the room to do as instructed, leaving Cassana alone with her thoughts. They felt like so many thoughts, but as soon as she started sorting through them, she saw that she was simply making them out to be bigger than they were. She hated admitted that she was making a big deal out of nothing, and so she simply tried to avoid thinking about them, Sadly, this never worked, which was why Cassana's bad mood had held throughout the afternoon.

She had arrived in her room, ordered her maids to unpacking, and promptly flounced onto her bed. That had been alright, that had been standard for her when she travelled. Her bad mood had begun after, when one of her maids had come up to her and hesitantly asked:

"Your majesty, would you like us to unpack all of your garments? Or just a few and leave the rest for when you move rooms?"

Looking back on it now, Cassana felt a little bad for having snapped at her maid so, but only a little. She had angrily ordered that of course they were to unpack all of her clothes, and had demanded to know how she dared to presume otherwise. The maid had stammered out more apologies than Cassana had bothered to count, and her wardrobe had been filled in half the time it normally took.

By the time Corrina had arrived, Cassana still hadn't moved from her bed, but the mood in the room was palpable. Silence had stretched between the two friends, right up until Corrina's comments began on Robb Stark.

She was right, Cassana was going to do her uttermost not to be overly obstinate and reject statements of seemingly true fact. But she wasn't about to go all weak at the knees for a man she had just met simply because he had a handsome face. According to her mother, King Robert had been a handsome man once, now look at him. Swollen with wine, food, and whores. Cassana wasn't denying that Robb seemed… nice, she was simply basing her facts on past experiences, which was the sensible and logical thing to do.

An excited series of raps sounded at her door. That sound had used to surprise Cassana, but now she was accustomed to what it heralded. She pulled herself up into a sitting position against her pillows, and rearranged the fur blanket she had spread over her legs until she was comfortable.

"Come," she called.

Her two other lady's maids, Illya Swyft and Mabelle Swann, tumbled into her room. They were two years younger than she and Corrina, but Cassana enjoyed their company nonetheless. They had been faithful lady's maids in the years that they had been by Cassana's side. They were not confidants, for that was Corrina's job. They were her informants.

Cassana had sent them to ask questions and listen as soon as they had arrived. They'd been at it for a couple of hours now, and she was eager to hear what they had to say. She didn't bother waiting for Corrina, a Princess didn't wait on others. Besides, her friend already had her mind made on Robb, or at least influenced.

"Well, what have you found?"

Cassana didn't gesture for the girls to sit, she'd see how good their information was first, and in any case, they were bouncing up and down with such excitement that she doubted they would have taken her offer if it had been given.

"Well, _I_ went and spoke with some of the servants, like you asked," Mabelle bragged; tossing her brown hair over one shoulder in a failed attempt to look imperious, "And according to them, Lord Robb is a very good man. They say that when he was little he ran mischief around the castle, but that his father has raised him to be a good lord. They say that he's polite, he doesn't have a temper, he-"

"Does he drink? Does he whore? Does he have any natural children?" Cassana interjected; inquiring after the things she feared he indulged in.

"Well-"

"_I_ managed to speak with someone who knows a lot more than the servants," Illya boasted.

Mabelle rolled her eyes, and Cassana suppressed a sigh at their stupid competitiveness. She didn't understand why they tried, they'd never be head lady-in-waiting, they were both of equal rank, why couldn't they just stop being annoying?

"Yes, who?" she asked; making no attempts to keep her loss of patience from her tone.

"His half-brother, Lord Stark's natural son," Illya replied smugly.

"And what did he tell you?" Cassana pressed.

"Well… a lot of the same stuff Mabelle found out..." Illya admitted. She was trying to look downcast, but her bright eyes held a glint of further knowledge, she just wanted to draw out her moment of power.

"If it was all just the same knowledge, I might as well let Mabelle continue," Cassana snapped out.

"But," Illya said quickly, "He also told me that Robb does enjoy going out drinking with Theon Greyjoy, and that 'the girls like him'. But, he said that Robb is 'a good man'."

Mabelle rolled her eyes, "He probably just said that because he knew you were spying for the Princess."

"And why would he know that?" Cassana inquired icily, "I am sure I told you both to be discreet."

"He didn't," Illya shot Mabelle a glare.

"I bet he did!"

"He-"

"Stop!" Cassana shouted.

The two younger girls ceased their bickering, and turned to face her once again, both of them with dropped gazes. Cassana rubbed at her temples, trying to dispel the headache starting to form. Her head was starting to hurt from the harshly pinned hairstyle she had adopted that morning, and their arguing was speeding it along.

"Both of you, leave me now," she commanded, "Mabelle, find Corrina and tell her to come and attend me, she can bring her maids and ready herself for the feast here. Illya, tell my handmaidens to come back to me, and tell them also that I wish to have a hot bath."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

The two girls curtsied, looked a little sullen at not being allowed to stay, but did as they were bid. Cassana sank back onto her pillows with a heavy sigh, letting herself lie there for a few moments.

She disliked to admit how comfortable her accommodations were, for truth be told, she had been expecting something far more bare than the suite she had been given. Her bed, wardrobe, chests, and vanity were all not the standard she was used to, but higher than she had expected all the same.

She wondered what her new rooms after these would look like…

The thought spurred her headache on, and she sat up with a loud noise of exasperation that no one was there to witness. Grumbling to herself about the lateness of her handmaidens, she set to undoing her hair on her own, freeing the long golden strands to fall about her shoulders.

Ahh, yes, that eased the tension somewhat. Cassana eased back into a lying position, and rested her tired eyes as she waited for her bath.

**/*0*/**

"Why, you look just like Her Royal Highness, the Queen!"

Cassana couldn't help but smile at the compliment. She loved it when people told her she looked like her mother, for her mother was without a doubt one of the most beautiful women in the Seven Kingdoms, it heightened Cassana's own confidence to have their looks matched.

She sat in front of the mirror at her table watching the progress as two of her maids, Reni and Olena, dressed her hair. It was being rolled into an arch over her head, to frame her face, with two twists of it falling on either side of her. It was the latest fashion in the South, and the series of gold and emerald pins her handmaidens added gave the illusion of a crown in her hair, as well as bringing out the green of her eyes.

"Have you decided on a dress?" Corrina inquired.

She was seated on the bed behind Cassana, having her own hair tended to by Cassana's final handmaid, Jeyne. The long brown curls were being dressed into the same style as Cassana's own, but House Brax by no means equalled the royal family in funds, and so her hair was not adorned in jewels as Cassana's was.

She could always have given Corrina some of her own, for she had plenty. However, she was privately pleased at the situation, for she sometimes felt that with her long dark hair, her big brown eyes, her perfectly pale complexion, Corrina was prettier than she. And it wouldn't do to be outshone by her lady-in-waiting.

Corrina herself was already gowned in a dress of deep blue and silver, the long sleeves of the gown falling halfway to the floor, a chain of silver around her slim neck. Cassana knew that most of the ladies would be dressed in long-sleeved gowns to accommodate the chill North, which was precisely why she had opted not to. It wouldn't do to be indecent, not at all, but as Princess she had to stand out from the rest. It was simply her duty.

"Yes," she replied, gesturing towards her open wardrobe, "The gold and green mother had made for me when I turned sixteen."

Her handmaidens didn't dare object to her choice, but she saw a slight tightening of the mouth as Reni put the final touches on her hair. She and Olena stepped back from the now finished Princess, but made no move to collect the dress she had just described.

Corrina had no such reservations on speaking her mind to her friend, within reason, but she felt that this merited a frown and comment.

"Are you certain? You'll freeze in that!"

Cassana shrugged her slim shoulders as she stood up, "The Great Hall will be warm, and I have absolutely no intention of going outside in this freezing country. Besides," she added coolly, "It is my decision. I do not like have my choices questioned like this."

She fixed Corrina with a stare, and the other girl opened her mouth as if to protest once more, but simply shook her head. She of all people knew that it was generally best to just let Cassana have her way. When she had been little, tantrums had succeeded in getting her this, but she had learnt better ways to use her position of power since then.

Sensing that there would be no changing the Princess' mind, Jeyne moved to fetch the gown from the wardrobe, while Reni and Olena stepped with Cassana behind her screen to help her dress. Even with the fire having been build up stronger, Cassana still felt a slight chill sweep over her when she let her maids remove her robe and leave her in only her shift for a few moments. The dress they helped her into warmed her some as they did up the laces and fitted the golden belt, but her arms were still largely bared to the elements.

A knock sounded at her door just as Olena was fixing an emerald pendant on a golden chain around her throat. Cassana frowned, she wasn't expecting anyone.

A messenger boy stood there when Jeyne opened the door, a Northern boy, judging from his attire. Cassana wrinkled her nose as his rather hideous outfit, and turned her head away from him and took a seat on the window ledge at the other side of the room, indicating that her maids should question what his purpose was.

"What is your business with the Princess?" Jeyne inquired; not stepping aside from the doorway to let him further into the room.

He bowed very low in Cassana's direction, and held out a wrapped item, "I come bringing a gift for the Princess Cassana."

Cassana's interest piqued, she always found gifts flattering. She turned and made a small gesture to Corrina. Her friend got up and received the present on her behalf, bringing it over to Cassana. She could feel that it was a small box, wrapped in a layer of fine cloth, bound with a ribbon of… yes, silk.

"Wait," she called; seeing that the boy was about to depart, "You will stand until I tell you to go."

He bowed again, but began fidgeting on the spot at once. She rolled her eyes with a sigh, really, was this how servants were trained in the North?

With a quick tug she had the ribbon off and the cloth pulled away. The box was finely carved out of a dark wood, and upon opening it she found the inside to be lined in deep blue velvet, almost black in colour. Nestled at the centre was a finely wrought gift indeed. A bracelet smithed from silver, polished so that it shone brightly in the firelight of the room. Her eyes got lost trying to follow the pattern of entwining lines which made up the design, this was fine craftsmanship, she hadn't known the North capable of such delicacy.

With a sigh she set it back into the box, closed the lid, and passed it back to Corrina.

"Tell me who sent this," she commanded the messenger boy.

"Uh…" he shifted on his feet, "I can't, your grace."

She arched one golden eyebrow coolly, her eyes turning to green ice "Can't? I am your Princess, and I just gave you an order."

He looked utterly torn, but his lips were pressed in a firm line. He dared not speak out loud disobedience of her order, so he simply did not speak at all. She gave an irate sigh, and gestured for Corrina to hand it back to him.

"Your grace?" he sounded panicked, and puzzled.

"I cannot accept gifts from strangers in the very castle of my betrothed," she said sharply, "Leave now, and return it."

"B-but, your grace, I-"

"Now," she ordered.

Her maids all but pushed him out of the way of the door, before firmly closing it in his face. They waited a few seconds to see if he would knock again, no sound came.

"Shame," Corrina said, "That was quite pretty."

"Yes, it was rather," Cassana agreed, "But you know that silver doesn't match any of my clothes."

**/*0*/**

On the other side of the castle, the same messenger boy knocked on the door of Robb Stark, and sheepishly handed him back the unwrapped box.

"Said she couldn't take it, Lord Robb," the boy said, "Said that it was cause she was betrothed and couldn't take no gifts."

Robb looked down at the box in his hands, and began chuckling to himself.

The boy looked crestfallen at his failure, "Lord Robb? I'm sorry."

Robb, still chuckling, waved the boy on and retreated back into his room. He opened the box and lifted out the bracelet, running his hands over it, erasing the fingerprint marks left by Cassana with his own. His chuckles grew louder, and soon he was laughing loud enough for others nearby to hear, and wonder what the hell was going on.


	6. Cold Halls

**A/N: Thank you for your continued support for this fic!  
And thank you to Cardinala for pointing out the proper forms of address, I'll rectify it for future chapters! **

Chapter 6: Cold Halls

Cassana walked calmly down the long halls of Winterfell with her head held high as she made her way to the Great Hall with her mother and siblings. Cersei too walked with a quiet dignity, the small crown of gold glittering in the torchlight. Even Joffrey had his air of royal decorum in place, complete with his perpetual smirk. The youngest royals however couldn't match up to the dignity of their elders.

Myrcella was practically walking on her toes with the way she continued to bounce up and down as she walked down the hall beside Cassana. She more she did this, the more her hair slowly became wilder and wilder. Cassana was grateful that Myrcella kept it done simply, as a young girl should, for it would have been a mess by now if it had been dressed as Cassana's.

Tommen managed to contain himself from the outward show his elder sister put on, but he was quivering with excitement at the prospect of the feast. Tommen loved feasts. He loved the loud voices, the songs, the dances, the chance to try and sneak wine from his mother's cup. He had yet to encounter many kittens in the castle though, which had upset him a little.

Cassana suspected that any cats would likely be in hiding from the Starks recently acquired direwolves. She had heard rumour of them from her handmaidens that afternoon, but hadn't seen any of the beasts yet. She was sure that the tales concerning size were greatly exaggerated. These 'direwolves' would as like as not be just ordinary wolf hounds.

She waited until Joffrey was striding a safe distance ahead of the rest of them, before she approached her mother to whisper softly.

"What does Joffrey look so happy about?"

She wanted to say smug, but knew that it would inspire a bad reaction from her mother to hear that word applied to her golden boy. But it would seem that whatever made Joffrey happy did not please their mother to the same degree, for a frown momentarily creased her smooth brow.

"Your father has offered marriage between him and Sansa Stark, as a sweetener to try and make Lord Stark become his Hand."

If Cassana had been eating or drinking, she would have choked. As it was, she only coughed a little, and her eyes widened in surprise.

"I thought that was the whole point of my marriage," she said.

"Yes, well it would seem that your father is willing to bind us even more to the Starks."

Cassana fell silent, she surprised herself by being rather put out at the news. Not only because it was something that gave her brother potential enjoyment, but because she felt undermined somehow. She had thought that her marrying Robb was going to be the thing that tied the Starks to the royal family, but now it seemed that she wasn't even needed to do that. She had become an extra when she wanted to be the only one. She hadn't looked forward to it, but now that it was no longer a special responsibility of uniting the families, she felt incredibly put out.

"Ahh, here is my family at last!"

Cassana's darkening mood blackened at her father's bellowed greeting. He was almost never earlier than them to any event, but whenever he was he crowed about it as if he were the one perpetually waiting for them. Because, of course, a King was never late to anything.

He stood with the waiting Stark family, who were all assembled, but more simply attired than she would have expected. Sansa and Lady Stark had at least donned new gowns, but as far as Cassana's eye could tell, the others hadn't bothered to change at all. If she were prone to it, she might have felt overdressed. But seeing as she wasn't, she merely looked down on those who didn't match up to her.

"You know what it's like waiting for women," Joffrey replied in a jovial tone, but Cassana felt the harsh bite of his words.

"Waiting for us? Why, Joff, would that have been during the time you were lost trying to find us?" she inquired sweetly.

That earned her a vicious glare from her little brother, but laughs from almost everyone else save the adults, though even her father chuckled at his son's expense.

"Come, I've a mind to get this feast started!" King Robert exclaimed, before offering his arm to Lady Stark. "Cat, may I have the pleasure?"

"Of course, Your Grace," she replied.

That was the cue for the remainder of the families to partner up behind the King and Lady Stark. Her mother took Lord Stark's arm carefully, keeping a polite distance between them. Joffrey, as Crown Prince, fell in behind his mother with Sansa Stark on his arm. And then followed Robb, who took up a spot behind Joffrey and held his arm out to Cassana.

"Princess," he bowed his head formally, "Might I have the honour?"

Cassana didn't reply, she didn't want to simply imitate the similar exchanges which had just passed between the other couples. She looped her arm through his proffered one, and rested her hand gently upon it, feeling the muscle tense up beneath the fabric of his shirt as he straightened his posture to emulate his father.

"You look beautiful," he said softly to her while they waited for the remainder of the younger siblings to partner up. Only young Rickon, she'd found out his name earlier, was left alone.

Cassana smiled at the compliment, as she had been trained to do, and looked slightly up at him.

"Thank you. You look quite handsome." The last part slipped out before she thought properly about it. It was the sort of reply she gave to most people who complimented her, for it was graceful of her to show proper gratitude. But giving it to Robb, her intended, somehow made her feel awkward about it. Which it shouldn't do, should it? She was confused.

"I'm glad my future wife thinks so," he replied, his smile splitting into a grin.

She had no time to summon a reply, because the doors had been opened and they began their procession into the Great Hall. Cheers of welcome rose up for the King and Lord Stark. Cassana kept a polite smile on her face, but her eyes forwards. Robb's comment had unsettled any awkwardness that had momentarily come over her in a girlish fit of stupidity. It was the first time that either of them had openly stated their connection to the other.

It made her feel curiously… odd. She was so used to being the Princess, being her parents' daughter, being her siblings' sister, and now she was someone's future wife as well. It felt strange to consider herself in that way, she wondered if she was up to the responsibility for a moment, before remembering that it didn't matter.

She needed to dismiss these silly feelings of curiosity and oddness. The facts were the facts. She would be married to Robb, she would be his wife, he would be her husband. That was it, that was final. Final.

Cassana looked around the hall of the castle that was to be her home. From now on, this would be it. No more magnificent throne room, no more sunlit gardens, no more shimmering ocean views. Cold grey stone against a cold grey sky in a cold grey land.

Her annoyances from the arrangement, the travel, and the whole afternoon were getting to her again. She needed wine.

**/*0*/**

The enjoyment of wine was something she liked to feel she had inherited from her mother. For while her father enjoyed the beverage, he drank it in such amounts as to be unseemly. Her mother on the other hand, knew how to enjoy her wine with elegance, something that Cassana often tried to mimic.

Her parents were supposed to be seated in the place of honour at the head of the table, but only her mother sat there now, Lady Stark seated to her left. Cassana's father had long since descended, abandoning what little royal dignity he had, and was currently making a spectacle of himself. He was drunk, and had his arms around a buxom serving woman down in the lower reaches of the Hall. Sadly, this was a sight that Cassana was used to.

As a member of the royal family, Cassana too enjoyed a place at the high table. This sadly meant a great deal of boredom, for she was seated at the end of her father's side, and her sole neighbour was Joffrey. Still, should would not have traded her position for a lower table. Granted, perhaps she would have more conversation seated with her ladies, but she wouldn't be afforded the same feeling of grandeur that the high table brought with it. From this vantage point she could safely remain aloof from the clamouring events down below.

"Gods this is a boring feast," Joffrey complained from her left, "They don't have any entertainment, the wine is poor, and is it always this smoky in this stupid place?"

"If you want entertainment, just watch father," she muttered.

She hadn't intended for Joffrey to hear, but his mocking laughter indicated that he had. She hated it when he laughed at her comments in that way, it generally meant that he agreed with them, and she hated having things in common with him. Truth be told, she had more in common than she'd like already, but she didn't want to extend that further than she had to.

"What do you think of her?"

"Hmm?" Cassana saved herself a few moments by taking another drink from her cup, it would need refilling soon.

"Lady Sansa, my betrothed," he clarified, "I want to know my dear sister's opinion. You've been betrothed to a Stark for longer than I, perhaps you can give me some pointers."

"Shut up," she shot back.

He smirked, he knew she hated it when he talked about her engagement, he'd been playing on that fact for years. Well ha, he would soon have nothing left to taunt her with.

She studied Sansa Stark closely. The bright red of her hair was certainly noticeable amidst the general darker colours of the people who shared her table, and she sat with the uttermost poise, even when she bent to have a whispered conversation with the girl on her right. Cassana could tell that she was trying very hard to put out the very best of airs, and grudgingly admitted that she was successful. Cassana could tell that Lady Stark was a woman of dignity, hopefully Sansa had picked up the finer points of it, despite being raised so far from any true civilisation.

Cassana felt her nose wrinkle up as she remembered the outburst from moments ago. The younger Stark girl had been throwing food, which really made her wonder just how these people were raised, they were one of the oldest Houses in Westeros! Still, Sansa had been rather shrill with her reactions, Cassana wondered mildly if perhaps she should have been sent off to bed along with her younger sister. Still she had recovered well it seemed.

"She's pretty," she replied to Joffrey's earlier conversation attempt. "She acts like a proper Lady should, how old is she again?"

"Thirteen," he replied.

"Young," she noted. "When does father intend for you to wed?"

"He hasn't said."

Joffrey let his gaze linger on Sansa, and Cassana watched as the younger girl dared a glance up towards him, only to promptly lower her gaze and blush when she saw him looking at her.

"She likes you," Cassana groaned.

Joffrey chuckled happily to himself. "I know, not everyone takes as ill towards me as you do, sister."

"Not everyone knows you as I do," she murmured. This time she was soft enough that he didn't hear.

"A toast!"

Cassana looked towards the back of the room, as her father's enormous bellow resounded through the Great Hall, earning silence from all gathered. She winced, seeing that he had managed to grab Robb Stark by the shoulder as he returned from escorting his little sister to her rooms. The two of them now walked towards the high table, and Cassana gathered herself together, restoring her posture and cool gaze to a suitable standard.

A servant refilled all of the cups along the high table, and passed full new ones to Robb and the King when they reached it.

"Cassana! Come, stand with me!" he called.

Joffrey smirked happily at her expense, being called up to a toast by their drunken father almost never ended well. He settled comfortable back into his chair, wine cup held loosely in one hand, and waited to see what would unfold.

Cassana rose smoothly from her chair, gathered up her wine, and moved in front of the table to stand beside her father. This close to him, the pungent smell of wine was almost overpowering. Cassana was embarrassed. On his other side stood her betrothed, granted a betrothed she wasn't all together happy with, but her intended nonetheless. And he could clearly smell that her father resembled a poor ale house right now.

"Soon, at last, the Houses of Stark and Baratheon shall be joined!" he shouted. "Young Robb Stark here is the lucky man who gets to marry the Princess Cassana, my daughter!"

A cheer rose up from the crowd, along with their wine cups, but her father waved them down.

"This day has long been coming, and I am glad to see it finally here." He turned to face Lord Stark at the table." Ned, you and I both wanted this sooner, when I was engaged to your sister. It is happening now, at last! But it should have happened then!"

A cold look descended on the Queen's face, and Cassana felt a mirror or it on her own. Only she also felt her cheeks flush red with anger and embarrassment on her mother's behalf. Why did her father always have to do this? Why couldn't he let go of that stupid dead woman? She was the reason that Cassana so disliked her association with the Stark family. If not for that woman, perhaps her father would have been a better man.

"Lyanna… now there was a fine woman," Robert went on, "She-"

"Father," Cassana interrupted, "I believe you said this was a toast about the union. Forget the past."

Her father looked at her and gave an empty laugh, "So like your mother! It is always about you, isn't it, darling girl? The two of you have never forgiven me for loving Lyanna! You both-"

"Father," she snapped in a whisper, hoping in vain it would make him lower his voice, "You are making a scene!"

"Making a scene?" he repeated at loud volume, "I am the King! Everything I do is making a scene that should be worthy of a tapestry!"

"Stop it," she hissed.

"Robert," Cersei admonished at the same time, "Enough."

He fixed them both with a bloodshot stare, something hard flitting across his expression. Cassana hated him like this, her father had never been violent to his family, but at moments like this she almost feared that he would.

"Very well, women in my life, have it your way," he grumbled, before turning back to the crowds, "Raise your cups! This boy is marrying my daughter, and he'll need all the luck the Gods can give him!"

People laughed at the perceived joke, and Cassana heard Joffrey's laugh above them all. She was outraged. How _dare_ her father, her own father, mock her in public like this! She was to live here, among these people, and he had just all but insulted her in front of them all. She hated him, in that moment right there, she hated her father with all of her heart.

With great deliberation, she placed her wine cup on the table behind her, refusing to drink to his insulting toast. She turned and dropped a curtsey to the people seated at the high table.

"If you will all excuse me, I am tired from the day's journey, I bid you all goodnight. Thank you, Lord Stark and Lady Stark for the feast."

She refused to give either her father or Robb eye contact as she turned once more and made her way to the door at the end of the room. She refused her father because of the anger she felt towards him, but she refused to look at Robb because she didn't want to see whatever look on his face remained from what her father had said.

She strode through the doors when they were opened for her, and didn't look back as she made her way down the halls back to her room. The cold bit into her exposed skin, but it didn't sting nearly as much as the things her father had said. Why couldn't he be better? Why did he have to do these things?

Cassana looked around the halls of the castle that once Lyanna Stark had occupied.

"Why can't you leave him be?" she asked of the cold stone, "Why can't you let him go?"

No answer came, and she made her way down the rest of the hall in silence.


	7. Interlude: Letters in the Night

**A/N: Thank you all for your support! I have bad news and I have grand news!  
Bad news, I am going on holiday for a month, and probably can't update in that time.  
Grand news: my good friend and fellow author, Maddie Rose, has very kindly made me a trailer for this fic! You can find the link on my profile :) Let me know what you think of her good work! And enjoy this wee little interlude. Hope it keeps you going until the next chapter! **

Interlude: Letters in the Night

"What do you think of her?" Cat inquired.

She and Ned lay in bed together, both of them warmed by the wine consumed and each other's presence. Tonight had been a long and successful feast. If a tad bit eventful too, Ned found himself wondering what had happened to Robert's eldest girl. She young Princess had looked angry when she left the hall, but embarrassed too, though she seemed to try and hide it. He assumed that this was the 'her' Cat referred to.

"I did not get the chance to speak with her tonight," he confessed, "I should have made time, perhaps."

"Robb didn't either, she kept herself quite held back," Cat said.

Ned sensed displeasure behind his wife's comment. "Cat, what is it?"

"Well, don't you find that odd? She's travelled for a month to be married, and she spends the feast ignoring her betrothed?"

"This feast was in honour of Robert, tomorrow night's is in honour of the upcoming wedding," Ned reminded her, "Perhaps she is just nervous. Weren't you when you first met my brother?"

"Well… yes," Cat admitted grudgingly.

"I'm sure she'll settle in," he assured, "And Robb is a charming lad, Gods help him, it will be fine."

"She left so abruptly too, it's like she couldn't stand to be in there," Cat said.

"Robert did overstep the line a little, I can't say I blame the girl, much. You know women's temperaments better than I, Cat, surely it was just a mood brought on by his drunken comments."

"He has grown more free with his wine and words," Cat admitted, "And his girth."

"How did he get so fat?" Ned wondered aloud to his wife.

"He only stops eating when it's time for a drink," Cat replied, chuckling at her own joke.

A knock sounded at their door, which was very odd for that time of night. Everyone would be asleep now, for it had been a long feast, with much drinking.

"It's Maester Luwin, my Lord."

Ned was even more puzzled now, what would his Maester want to late at night?

"Send him in," he instructed.

The door opened to reveal the old man in his grey robes, the heavy Maester's chain hung around his neck as always. The man looked troubled by something.

"Pardon my Lord, my Lady," he greeted. "A rider in the night, from your sister."

Cat rose out of bed, and went over to take the note Maester Luwin held outstretched. Ned sat up further and frowned, Lysa had always been odd, to insist on this note being delivered despite the hour? And her rider arriving so late? What was happening?

"This was sent from the Eyrie," Cat noted in a worried tone as she examined the blue wax seal, before opening up the note, "What's she doing at the Eyrie…she hasn't been back there since her wedding-"

Maester Luwin closed the door as she read quickly whatever the rest of the note held quickly. The more she read, the more her eyes widened in shock. She glanced up at the Maester quickly, before striding to the fireplace to throw the note inside. Poking at the flames to make sure that they consumed every word written on that small sheet of paper.

"What news?" Ned rose from his bed in alarm at his wife's actions.

"She's fled the capital," Cat replied steadily, "She says Jon Arryn was murdered, by the Lannisters, she says the King is in danger."

Ned frowned, "She's fresh widowed, Cat, she doesn't know what she's saying."

"Lysa's head would be on a spike right now if the wrong people had found that latter," Cat said empathetically. "Do you think she would risk her life, her son's life, if she wasn't certain her husband was murdered?"

Ned turned away, considering this information. If what Cat's sister wrote was true, then Robert would indeed be in great danger. Lannisters surrounded him down in King's Landing, he was so tightly bound to that family that he'd never escape from it.

"If this is true, then the Lannisters conspire against the Throne," Maester Luwin spoke the obvious out loud, "Who but you can protect the King?"

"They murdered the last Hand, and now you want Ned to take the job?" Cat asked; aghast.

"The King rode for a month to ask Lord Stark's help," Maester Luwin pointed out. "He's the only one he trusts. You swore the King an oath, My Lord."

"He spent half his life fighting Robert's wars," Cat argued, "He owes him nothing! Your father and brother rode South once, on a King's demand."

"A different time, a different King," Maester Luwin said.

Ned stood still and silent for a few moments, thinking the whole thing out in his head.

If he took the job, he would be putting himself and therefore his family at risk. But if he didn't, then the Lannisters would almost certainly have Robert killed, and his son put on the Throne. How much could he do to stop them? Lannisters lied and cheated with almost every breath they took, would he be able to stop their plots in the very heart of their kingdom?

What he needed was more connection, more of a hold on Robert. The Lannisters had him by marriage and by pocket, but Ned already had his two eldest children. Robb would marry Robert's eldest girl, and the Princess would become a Lady of the House Stark. If he agreed to go South, then Sansa would marry the Crown Prince, and one day rule beside him as Queen. Perhaps these matches would give him equal footing with the Lannisters…

"Maester Luwin, leave us, if you would. I will speak with you more about this on the morrow."

"As you will, My Lord," the old man bowed and left the room, closing the door firmly behind himself.

"Ned, you cannot seriously be considering this!" Cat exclaimed, coming to stand in front of him.

"This changes things, Cat," he said softly.  
"Yes," she agreed, "It makes them worse! Do you think that the Lannisters would let you stop whatever plots they have? No! They would get rid of you, just like they did Jon Arryn!"

"He needs me," he said simply, "Now more than ever."

"No, Ned, listen-"

"I will take Sansa with me, seeing as she will be wed to Prince Joffrey," Ned talked over his wife, "Arya too, she could use the civilising I dare say, and Bran."

"Bran?" Cat was aghast again, "No, not Bran."

"He wants to be a knight, King's Landing will be the best place for him to do that, "Ned pointed out, "And perhaps I can arrange a match between him and Princess Myrcella."

"Another one?" Cat questioned, "Ned, what are you thinking?"

"I am thinking that we need more connections, Cat," he said, "If we have three marriages tying us to the Crown, then perhaps we will control more than the Lannisters. That way, we can stop them."

"I don't like it," Cat said adamantly, "I've never liked Robb being betrothed to the Princess, and after tonight at the feast, why you can see she's just like her mother! And Sansa being engaged to the Prince? Now you want to put Bran in that family?"

"Myrcella is a sweet girl, I'm sure that Cassana will be too."

"They are Lannisters!" she exclaimed.

"They are Baratheon, and Robert's children!" he defended, "And in a few days time, Cassana will become our daughter to."

"No," Cat shook her head, "Never. Especially not after this! Ned, how can we trust their intentions?"

"Their intentions? Cat, you can't speak as if she is a part of their intentions. The dangerous Lannisters are the Queen, her brother Jaimie, and most especially their father, even though Tywin is not in King's Landing."

"Perhaps, but she could be a part of it!" Cat argued.

"You know as well as I do that the Lannisters were against the Princess being betrothed to Robb." He pointed out, "It was Robert's idea, and mine, and I still think it a good one."

"I don't trust her, she seems so… aloof," Cat said.

"She's a Princess, she can't help how she was raised. Besides, you were a little the same when you first arrived," he reminded gently, "Give her time, Robb seems to like her already."

"I noticed," Cat muttered.

"If he's happy, then let it go, Cat," he said, pulling her into his arms. "You're simply being an overprotective mother."

"And wife," she hugged him back fiercely, "I let you distract me from the topic, I still don't want you going South!"

"Shh, love," he kissed the top of her head, "We'll talk more of it tomorrow."


End file.
